After All They've Been Through
by NerdofSpades
Summary: These kids had signed up to train for one of the most dangerous jobs possible, and one that would earn them a lot of enemies with no reason to hold back. It was only right they UA prepared them for it, as much as they could. But... 1-A always has a way of making things different from how they've always been.


**I know it's not my usual upload day, but I just hit 100 followers, so you guys are getting a nice little present, which is this story, much earlier than I was planning on uploading it. (gotta love back logs)**

 **Anyway, enjoy guys, we'll be back on the normal schedule tomorrow with The Other Grayson-Fenton!**

 **NoS**

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The teachers' offices were tense. Very tense. Not that no one knew why; this happened every year. No, they all knew why they weren't talking and, roughly, what the others were thinking. None of them liked this time of year, liked what they had to do, but it was necessary. This was honestly the safest way to handle it. It wasn't something they could ignore, and other methods were liable to get the school sued.

But this year was different.

This year was always different.

Shouta was still trying to figure out if he should be grateful he didn't have to take part in it this year or not. Doing _that_ to _these kids_ would have been hard, but he'd have done it. Sure, it was always hard to put his kids through that if they managed to last this long, but these ones in particular… it would have been difficult on all of them.

So, yeah, he had a bit of a reason to be glad he didn't have to try and give them nightmares with nothing more than some bits of paper that contained real life horror stories.

But that always lead to thinking about why he wasn't doing it this year and why it would have been so much harder with them than the previous years. Why this year was different. Why they were always different.

Class 1-B still needed to go through this. He didn't envy the others. They had debated briefly if Kan's class had still needed to go through with this part of their training the same time they were debating whether or not to allow this batch of first year students to apply for internships after they got their provisional licenses. Everyone had agreed that 1-A didn't need the lesson, but Kan had put his foot down quickly. His students had only ever been on the periphery if they were even involved in an attack. Some, like Monoma, still had trouble wrapping their head around how the attacks would have affected their fellow students, instead only seeing the publicity that would help them when they graduated.

"What files are you-" Nemuri cut herself off from asking her traditional question. Probably force of habit sparked by the just as traditional tension. "Sorry," she winced under Shouta's dead gaze before he returned to his grading. "What about you, Kan?"

Kan glanced up. "I- I'm not sure yet. I know I should have picked by now, but… you know how it is."

Heads bobbed, and voices hummed in agreement around the room.

"And with all that's happened in the past year… there's a lot of new files to choose from," Kan finished.

Shouta glanced up again. "I hope you aren't planning on using any of the files from the USJ or Bakugou's abduction," he said.

"Of course not," Kan answered, barely keeping the bite out of his voice. He knew Shouta was just getting over protective of his students. Not that there wasn't reason. "I'm well aware of confidentiality laws, Shouta. Having access to some of them might help when they find out 1-A isn't going through this, but it's not my place to share."

Shouta nodded. Those files really would help ease the tensions between 1-A and 1-B that almost all came from 1-B's side and was only returned when someone (Monoma) went too far.

Once again, Shouta returned to his paperwork. Tried to, anyway. Of course it would be easier between the groups if 1-B got an up close and personal look at how his kids had suffered, preferably without becoming targets themselves. He already had one Problem Child to deal with (along with roughly nineteen students that either enabled him or were rapidly following in his footsteps) and would never wish that kind of stress on his fellow teachers.

No, while 1-B didn't understand exactly how bad things could get just yet (exactly why losing wasn't an option), learning the way 1-A did wasn't something that would help anyone.

1-A had far too many scars for any of their likings, mental and physical.

1-A learned about the darkest parts of the world far, _far_ too early.

Sure, the USJ alone would not have been enough for them to figure it out, the same way the attack on the training camp wasn't enough for 1-B to understand. But 1-A had more than that.

All the students were displaying some kind of fear of the dark (for obvious reasons), usually going no further than elevated heart rates, darting eyes, and a moment of irrationality here and there. The obvious exception was Tokoyami.

But, of course, that was only the beginning. They also heard the screams in the night when someone got a nightmare. They saw the way Bakugou avoided any kind of restraints now, and how the teachers were pointedly avoiding putting him on the Villain team for training exercises for the time being. (Bakugou hadn't complained, but Shouta was planning on actually talking to him about it soon to see if he felt up for playing the part again.) They saw the way Midoriya jumped and twitched whenever something accidentally brushed his neck or if he didn't realize someone was behind him. They saw the way Tsu (and yes, even Shouta called her that, even if it was usually in his head) was trying to rewrite her reactions to something more constructive than the instinctive flinch whenever something flew at her face, because that wouldn't save her or anyone else. They saw their teachers go down fighting and felt the fear that they wouldn't be getting back up.

1-A had been through too much.

Shouta's kids had been through too much.

It was like he'd told them on the first day. The world isn't fair and it's their job to balance it. What he didn't tell them was that meant willingly taking the short end of the stick. It meant put all that unfairness on your own shoulders so someone else wouldn't have to. That was the last thing some of them needed to hear, and he knew they understood that by now anyway, even if they weren't putting it into words. Not yet, anyway.

His kids knew the risks of getting captured. His kids knew the risks of getting in too deep and not calling for backup. His kids didn't need to see the files of heroes that had gotten captured or killed because of a simple mistake. They didn't need look at the reports of heroes that had their career ended after disappearing for a few weeks or months or years. They didn't need to know about the ones that couldn't keep a level head and had gotten themselves and others severely injured.

His kids had nightmares and therapists for that.

If only they hadn't needed to know that quite so soon.

If only they hadn't been forced onto the field so soon.

If only they'd had the chance to be a normal class. To have a normal first year at UA.

Regardless.

They had classes to teach, and his kids would worry if he was late.

And reflecting and wishing wasn't going to change anything.

Pushing those final thoughts from his mind, Shouta rose to his feet and said goodbye to his coworkers, wandering down the halls. He stopped outside the door, hand resting on the handle as he listened to his kids slowly quiet down and the last chairs scrape into place as they took their seats.

A small smile tugged at his lips for a second as Iida's voice rang out, announcing that start of class, like he always did, before he screwed his face back into a passive, blank slate and opened the door.

They may have gone through too much, but they were still kids.

And they were _his_ kids.


End file.
